


insatiable

by vermiliren



Category: American Horror Story, American Horror Story: Apocalypse
Genre: Abuse, Abusive Relationships, Biting, Blood and Violence, Choking, Crying, F/M, Female Reader, God Complex, Hair-pulling, Humiliation, Nosebleed, POV Second Person, Pregnancy, Prostitution, Rape/Non-con Elements, References to Drugs, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-12
Updated: 2018-11-12
Packaged: 2019-08-22 15:26:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16600580
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vermiliren/pseuds/vermiliren
Summary: there was a reason satan decided to save you.





	insatiable

**Author's Note:**

> written from 11/11/18-11/12/18
> 
> PLEASE READ THE TAGS! this work depicts a rather dubious/noncon scene between the reader and michael, so if the tags or that make you uncomfortable, please don't read! thank you. 
> 
> a song recommendation for this work would be closer by nine inch nails.

You watched anxiously as Miss Mead collected her things.

 

"I'm trusting you with my home, (Name)," she put her clothes in a bag, "I won't be gone long, but I hope you don't try anything while I'm away."

  
"Of course, Miss Mead," you smiled shakily, "I'll take care of the house."

  
"Good," Miss Mead fastened her cloak.

  
"Miss Mead," you stepped forward, "Can I ask where you're going?"

  
"I wouldn't usually tell someone like you," she turned, "But since I am trusting you with my house and all, and I'm just so excited, I'll tell you... we've found the Antichrist, (Name)."

  
"The... the Antichrist?" You couldn't help but feel a bit nervous.

  
"Well, at least we _think_ we've found him," she walked past you, "I'll let you know when I return. Just remember I want this house looking exactly how I left it when I come back, alright?"

  
"Of course," you nodded, following her to the front door.

  
"Well, goodbye and hail Satan, (Name)!"

  
*

  
Miss Mead had been gone for a few days.

  
You knew you probably could have stolen from her, or have done something worse to her house, but you had a second chance. Thanks to selling your soul to Satan when you were on death's door, you were here now. Albeit, you could have had a money, fame, and Ryan Reynolds on Mondays, this was a good first step.

  
You were in the kitchen when you head the front door open. Quickly, you rushed to the entrance of the home to greet Miss Mead. But you didn't expect to see a scrawny, young man accompanying her.

  
"Miss Mead," you couldn't take your eyes off him. In return, his blue eyes seemed to stare into your soul, "You have a guest."

  
"Oh, (Name)!" Miss Mead clasped her hands together, "This isn't just any guest, it's the Antichrist himself!"

  
You felt your heart nearly stopped. The... Antichrist? Right in front of your eyes?

  
You bowed, unsure of what to do. You stared at the floor, panic stirring within you. When you sold your soul to the devil, you thought you would die before his reckoning. You didn't believe Miss Mead when she said they'd find him... you didn't really pledge your heart to Satan when you signed yourself off to him! Now, it was all so real.

  
You looked back up at the man, hoping he couldn't see right through you. "H-hi, I'm (Name)," you smiled shakily.

  
"I'm Michael," he responded, tilting his head slightly.

  
"(Name), prepare a feast! We must show our gratitude to the Dark Lord!"

  
You were glad that when you sold your soul to Satan, he at least made you good at cooking. It took your only a few hours to prepare something for Miss Mead and Michael, as you were sure that your nerves would leave you unable to really eat.

  
Once sat down and after praying and thanking Satan for the meal, Michael dug into his plate. You merely picked at your food, hoping neither of them would notice. But that might have been to much to ask for of the Dark Lord.

  
"Are you feeling well, (Name)? You look a bit pale," Miss Mead commented.

  
"I'm just a bit... shocked, is all," you shrugged, and then turned to Michael, "Maybe shocked isn't the right word. I'm... just so honored to be in the presence of the Antichrist himself."

  
Michael stared at you for a moment before drawling, "And who are you?"

  
You felt a bit taken aback at his lack of formality, yet you knew he was aware of your name. Maybe he was only questionable of your position. "Just a servant of the Dark Lord."

  
"I took (Name) in a few months ago," Miss Mead elaborated, "She was nearly dead when I found her, I almost used her as a sacrifice! But I heard the voice of Satan himself telling me to save her! (Name) agreed to sell her soul just in time to save her own life. I consider her a sort of apprentice of mine."

  
You felt a bit flustered at the sudden attention at yourself. You could barely remember the night Miss Mead had found you, and in all honesty, you didn't want to. You could only nod along to her story and smile awkwardly at Michael when he trained his eyes on you.

  
There was no more talking after that. Once everyone was done, you were ready to clean up, but Miss Mead instructed you to show Michael to a room. You did as she said, yet you didn't want to be alone with him.

  
"This is your room," you opened the door to the guest room, "It's a bit plain, but I'm sure Miss Mead wouldn't mind if you personalized it a bit."

  
He walked in wordlessly, noticing the upside down cross hanging above the bed.

  
"They're in every room of the house," you explained, "Miss Mead is very religious."

  
"I've noticed," he said, and then looked to you.

  
You felt a sort of fear strike you. "W-well, the restroom is right across the hall. I-if you have any questions, I'm-I'm right downstairs--"

  
"Is it true that you sold your soul to me?"

  
You froze.

  
"Is it true that there are a lot of people who worship _me_?"

  
You looked away from him. You couldn't stand his intense stare. "Y-yes, it's true, Michael," you began to back out of the room, "So many people have waited their entire lives for you."

  
"They have?" He seemed to have a childlike curiosity about him.

  
You nodded, "You are a savior to them-- _to us_ , Michael. Now, y-you should rest."

  
He stepped closer to you, hands folding behind his back. You stayed still as he watched you, "Do you really believe that I'm your savior, (Name)?"

  
You looked into his eyes, "Yes. Satan saved my life, so now I owe it to you, right?"

  
He didn't answer as he walked back, sitting on the bed.

  
You swallowed thickly, "Is there anything else you need?"

  
"No," he didn't look at you, rather at the cross that mounted the wall.

  
You quickly excused yourself, and rushed down the stairs. Of course, you ran into Miss Mead at the bottom of them.

  
"Oh, (Name)," she smiled widely at you, "Isn't he just wonderful?"

  
You nodded quickly, "He is." You spotted the clothes she was carrying.

  
"These are for Michael," she told you, "Is he in the guest room?"

  
"Yes," you responded, "And I think I'm going to be off to bed, now. Good night, Miss Mead."

  
That night, you couldn't sleep. In fact, you couldn't sleep peacefully for the next few nights. You felt as if something in the shadows was watching you, waiting for you at your most vulnerable moment.

  
*

  
You'd like to say Michael was warming up to you.

  
He was more talkative than his first day at the house of Miss Mead. You felt more relaxed around him, although you didn't spend much time with him. He and Miss Mead would be gone all day at times, leaving you to make breakfast before they left and have dinner ready for them when they returned.

  
But today was different.

  
"I have to take care of some things," Miss Mead told you and Michael at breakfast, "It's nothing big, so Michael, you can stay home today."

  
Michael's expression was neutral as he continued to eat.

  
"I'll see you both later," she stood as she put her dish in the sink, "(Name), will you lock the door for me?"

  
You followed her as she made her way out. Before she walked out the door, she turned to you, placing her hands on your shoulders. "I always knew there was a reason that the Dark Lord told me to save you," she smiled, "Hail Satan, (Name)."

  
And with that, she was gone. You felt uneasy. Why did she say that to you? She was never so... _endearing_ towards you like this before. You locked the door and all its intricate locks, and came back to the kitchen.

  
Michael was no where to be seen, so you assumed he must have went to his room or the living room. You grabbed the empty dishes left and began to wash them in the sink. Something inside you was dreading this day, dreading having to spend it with Michael like this. After washing the dishes, you checked the living room. There was no Michael. He was probably in his room, so you went to your own to avoid him in a way. What you did not expect was to see Michael sitting on your bed, admiring the upside down cross above your own bed.

  
"Michael," you froze in the door frame.

  
Michael slowly turned his gaze towards you. "When I first met you," he stood, "You told me you were a servant to my Father. And because of that, you were a servant to _me_."

  
You felt your mouth grow dry. "That's true."

  
"You know, it's kind of funny," he laughed a bit, before his voice turned to cold and blank, "That I don't believe you."

  
"What is that supposed to mean?" You stiffened up, feeling as if the temperature of the room dropped a few degrees.

  
"You sold your soul, yes," he began to circle you, making you feel small compared to him, "But I don't think you really meant it. Do you remember? Remember selling your soul to my Father?"

  
"This is ridiculous!" You tried to follow him with your eyes, "Are you--are you questioning my faith?"

  
"Yes, I am," he stopped walking around you, "But you didn't answer my question. _Do you remember selling your soul?"_

  
You felt tears in your eyes, "No, no I don't. But I was a homeless druggie, about to OD or something. At least, that's what Miss Mead told me."

  
"Exactly," he was suddenly right in front of you, "Don't you remember any of your old life?"

  
You felt threatened, cornered. Yet, you couldn't do as he said. You could not remember. "What are you trying to do?" You felt tears in your eyes as you stared up at him.

  
"See, you had no life before me," his hands cupped your face, forcing you to stare into his eyes, "Before my Father. You were _created_ to serve me, don't you understand?"

  
You were confused. You were scared. You were desperately trying to remember anything from your past, _anything_. With this knowledge, you were too overwhelmed. Panicked, you pushed him away from you, turning for the door.

  
It wasn't even a second before Michael grabbed your wrist, pulling you towards him. You didn't expect him to pull you against himself, your back against his chest.

  
"You said you were my servant," his voice was in your ear, "Yet, all you've done is reject me since I've arrived here."

  
"Let me go," you struggled against his arms. You were mistaken about this boy--no, this man. 

  
"Why would I let you go?" He pulled you flush against him, "I've only just found you."

  
With every ounce of strength you could muster, you pulled from his grasp and slapped him right across the face. He shouted in pain, hand going to his face, giving you time to flee from your bedroom. You got to the front door, cursing at the series of locks. You only got to one before you were yanked away, being thrown against the floor.

  
"My Father did not tell me how _difficult_ this would be," he wiped at his mouth, a bit of blood collecting at the corner of his lips, "But it's okay. I'm up for a challenge."

  
"Get the hell away from me!" You cried, frustrated and angry. You crawled back, trying to put distance between yourself and him. This all seemed futile as he followed you with long strides, as if teasing you. Like you would _never_ get away from him.

  
You felt tears running down your face as you found yourself backed up against a wall. "What do you want from me?" You sobbed, unable to look into his eyes.

  
Michael simply crouched in front of you, a smirk gracing his beautiful features. "What you promised me. _Everything_. I own you, after all, isn't that right?" He fell onto his knees, each on either side of your thighs. You were trapped beneath him, at his mercy.

  
With slightly trembling hands, he reached out to take your face in his hands once again. You felt as if the life was draining out of you, like power was leaving you and being absorbed by him. You closed your eyes as he leaned towards you, not wanting to have to stare into those eyes of his.

  
You could hear the hitches in his breath, feel them against your face as he got closer to you. Then he kissed you, his plump lips against yours. You could feel more tears falling as he parted from you. You opened your eyes, though blurry with tears.

  
"I've wanted to do that..." he was smiling at you, "For a very long time, (Name). You've no idea."

  
You stared to sob again, afraid. His eyes turned from bright to concerned as he wiped your tears away with his thumbs. "Don't cry," he cooed, although his voice had a dark residue, "I know you're my servant, but I'll take good care of you. Don't you worry."

  
This did not reassure you whatsoever. He gave you a chaste kiss before removing himself from you. You watched as he held a hand out for you, his light eyes somehow dark. You knew that you might regret it if you didn't take his hand, so you reluctantly did so.

  
He smiled again at you. He looked so innocent, so boyish, but all you felt was dread and darkness as he leaned in to kiss you once again. He pushed you into the corner of the wall, leaving you caged. You couldn't help but whine as you felt what had to have been his erection against you.

  
Michael's mouth moved to your neck, immediately biting. You gasped in pain as your hands moved to his shoulders, in a subtle attempt to create more space between you both. But Michael was insatiable, his mouth continued to suck and bite at your fragile skin until you were sure he drew blood on multiple occasions.

  
Soon enough, he grabbed your wrists and held them at your sides, pushing you into the wall as far as he could. His clothed cock began to grind against your inner thigh, his mouth switching from abusing your lips to your neck.

  
Once he was tired of this, his hands left yours to feel your body. You whimpered as he brushed his hands over sensitive spots. You could still feel his length rutting against you.

  
He moaned into your neck, hands beginning to fiddle with the waistband of your pants. You used your useless hands to push against him once again, in another attempt to get him off of you.

  
"Are you still trying to reject me, doll?" He breathed harshly against your neck, one of his hands finding its way into your pants.

  
"Michael," you cried, "Don't..."

  
In an instant, you felt his free hand snatch your throat. "No one, especially you, tells me what to do," his eyes were dark, demeanor lacking any innocence, any purity. You were looking at the devil in his human form.

  
The grey aura that had surrounded you broke as soon as his hand began to move between your legs. You pressed your head back into the wall, eyes up at the ceiling. You couldn't look at him like this. In response, Michael clasped your throat tighter.

  
You twitched as his fingers pushed past your panties and felt the flesh of your core. You hadn't noticed the wetness that had seeped from you. The hand on your throat suddenly took your chin, forcing you to look at him. "Do you feel that, (Name)?" His voice was taunting, "You're soaked."

  
"Fuck you," you spit, making him flinch.

  
Michael completely let go of you at that moment. His fingers left you, his hand was just an imprint on your skin. You watched as he stared right through you, unsure of what to do yourself.

  
"You are fucking filthy," his eyes finally focused on you, making you cower at the fire behind them, "Do you really want to know what you were doing before my Father sent Miss Mead to find you?"

  
His hand found your hair, making you squeal in pain. He dragged you through the house, back to your room. He threw you on the floor once again, looking absolutely disgusted with you. You didn't move from your spot on the ground as he crouched in front of you once again.

  
With no hesitation, his fingers found your hair again and slammed your face into the ground. You screamed as pain erupted from your nose. You began to sob for him to let you go, to stop this.

  
"When Miss Mead found you, you were nothing but a whore who was about to overdose on heroin," he held your face down, "But my Father took it upon himself to save you from your untimely death. In my opinion, he should have just let you fucking die."

  
You could feel blood gushing from your nose, pooling onto the floor.

  
"But no, he told sweet Miss Mead to convert you, and you accepted," he laughed, "Father saved you, in return for your soul. He knew he was going to give you to me. If only he knew how much of a brat you were going to be. But I suppose his reasoning was that since you were such a slut in your past life, that you wouldn't mind becoming mine."

  
Memories were flooding back to you. The life of the old you. You could vaguely remember the moment the old (Name) had died, and the new you was reborn. You agreed with Michael, you wished you had just died then.

  
"For once, my Father was wrong," his voice was in your ear, "You're proving very challenging. But I'm sure after some time, you'll understand your role in the world; as my _whore_."

  
You groaned as he lifted your head up, letting the blood spill more. With little struggle, he lifted you onto the bed. You were on your back now, feeling the warm crimson continuing to drain from your nose which had to have been broken. You weren't sure if Michael knew his full capabilities.

  
You could only watch as Michael removed your pants, pulling the past and off your ankles. You were finished fighting him. He was the Antichrist, and you were just as he said: his whore.

  
So lost in your own thoughts, you hadn't noticed that your lower half was naked until he used the panties that you were wearing to wipe the blood from your face. This was humiliating. You cringed as you smelled yourself on your own fabric. Michael seemed delighted to make you feel this way, not so subtly shoving the garment into the back pocket of his black jeans.

  
Not wasting anymore time, he unzipped his jeans and pulled them down just enough to reveal his cock. It was large enough to make you a bit nervous as he positioned himself at your entrance. He leaned on his elbows as he slid inside of you.

  
You convulsed with silent sobs as he bottomed out within you. Your walls clenched around him, trying to adjust to the intrusion. He was breathing heavily as he pulled back and pushed forward, setting a rhythm.

  
You could feel the sheets beneath you being pulled. His hands were clenching so hard, sure to tear right through. But he easily solved that for himself by letting his hands fall at your throat, putting you in his choke-hold.

  
You wheezed as your hands reached for his wrists, trying to ease his grip. His thumbs were pressing into your windpipe, as if to really strangle you, but just not enough to. ~~You almost wished he would.~~

  
Michael's eyes were glassy as noises fell from his mouth. His hips were slamming into you hard, beginning to draw pleasure from you. You hated this, hated him. After all he had done, your body could really respond to him in such a way?

  
Michael's hands began to push harder at your throat, almost cutting your air supply off completely. "Fuck," he screwed his eyes shut, "I suppose Father was right about you, you are tight."

  
You could only gurgle in response. Just how long did Michael have this planned? How long had his "Father" been feeding this to him?

  
You sucked in a big gulp of air as Michael removed one hand from your throat. He brought it to your clit, pressing at it. You felt tears burn your eyes from shame and pleasure as he squeezed and played with you, his cock still spreading you.

  
"You've grown so much wetter since we've started," Michael's sultry voice rang from above you, "Are you finally warming up to me?"

  
You wanted nothing more than to repeat your actions and spit in his face, but that fire of boldness had died out long ago. You could only whine as your legs trembled at the pleasure he was delivering to you. His one hand on your throat squeezed, making you choke out a cry.

  
"If I ask a question," his voice shook, "I expect an-an answer."

  
You felt hate burning in your chest as you managed to whisper, "Y-yes, Michael."

  
Michael moaned, his face was an expression of pure lust as he stared at you. "Good," his hips stuttered for a moment, "Good, yeah, you're s-so good."

  
You could tell he was beginning to fall apart. His fingers at your clit began to work faster, quickly overstimulating you. "Fuck, Michael, stop," your vocal cords were still at the mercy of Michael, so the jumble of words came out broken, "Please, no..." You weren't exactly sure what you were pleading for anymore.

  
Michael didn't stop you from releasing, tightening around his thick cock as your eyes rolled around in your head. Michael whined rather loudly as your cunt squeezed him, clenching and rocking against him. He tried to gather his breath, but before he knew it, he was spilling inside of you.

  
You felt tears and guilt roll through you as this happened, feeling his thick seed within you. Wordlessly, Michael's hand left your throat, and he removed himself from your used pussy. He tucked himself away, sweat rolling off of his forehead and nape of his neck. You could feel his cum seeping out of you.

  
Michael stood, his demeanor shifting back into his awkward, boyish self. He merely looked back at you before leaving your room, closing the door behind him. You could feel the aching in your cunt, and the bruises and bites on your neck. You wanted nothing more than to wash him off of you.

  
* 

  
You didn't leave your room for days.

  
Finally, Miss Mead came to check on you. She had a platter of pomegranate for you.

  
You were curled up on your bed, watching as she set the platter on your bedside table and sat on the edge of your bed. Over the course of these days, you had been pondering. Miss Mead had rescued you from one of your darkest hours, and perhaps she would do it again.

  
"Miss Mead," your voice was strained, due to being choked by the Antichrist himself, "May I confide in something with you?"

  
She seemed almost excited as she agreed, seeming desperate to what you had to say.

  
"The day you were gone," you felt tears burn your eyes, "Michael... did something to me."

  
She perked up, eyes wide. "How was it?"

  
You were taken back from her reaction. "How was what?"

  
She shook her head, "Don't be embarrassed now, I know exactly what happened!"

  
You began to feel sick as you listened to Miss Mead. "You do?"

  
"Michael told me I need to be away from the house that day because he had important business to take care of with you, if you know what I mean," she winked at you playfully, "Now, what is the big news?"

  
You felt distraught. You couldn't trust this woman, and you should have known. She idolized Michael, and of course she helped him...

  
"That-that was it," you tried to blink back the tears.

  
"Oh, really?" She smiled, "I was hoping maybe that you'd be pregnant! After all, that was Michael's intention."

**Author's Note:**

> i really am the white man's whore huh
> 
> i was trying really hard not to make michael a #sub so i then proceeded to make him darker as the work went on :0 oops
> 
> thank you for reading! :^)


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